Out on My Own
by CrabbyCakes
Summary: When Nonna is hospitalized after a forty-foot fall, Katyusha must find her own way for the time being.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The railing vibrated in Nonna's palms. What was taking them so long to replace it? She had complained for the last two months about it, and they still couldn't come up with the funds or the drive to do something so simple as replacing a railing!

A purge was in order, she mused. Katyusha would have a field day with this one. She was always gunning for a purge—not that she ever got one, but a change of pace would be nice anyway, something to break up the routine.

What was it with that adorable little midget's obsession with purges? It was an endearing quality, to be sure, but there was a reason nothing ever came of it. She, Nonna, was more tame about it all; after all, she had but to stand over someone to get them to crack.

The railing! Why had they made it so short? What did they think Pravda girls were, five? Katyusha's voice rang in her head: "Don't treat me like a child!"

So lost in these thoughts was she that she failed to notice how far she was leaning over the railing. From behind her a voice said:

"Careful, Nonna."

As she turned around to face whoever it was who had spoken, she finally lost her balance. She toppled over the railing and found herself falling. Everything felt like a blur. Her life, her time with Katyusha flashed before her eyes.

The impact with the deck below was unlike anything she had expected. It was a good four decks. She all but pancaked on the metal surface, and suddenly her body was filled with shooting waves of agonizing pain that made her physically sick. She tried to move but couldn't. It hurt too much. Even breathing was a chore. She must have punctured a lung or something, or at least broken a rib.

"Nonna?" Katyusha's voice sounded close by, for real this time. "Are you all right?"

She tried to answer but only coughed up blood. A little red trickle ran from the corner of her mouth and dripped onto the steel of the deck.

"Nonna, answer me!"

Nonna's eyes filled with tears. It hurt more than anything she had ever felt, and it hurt even more to see Katyusha defenseless. She felt like she had betrayed her little friend by allowing this to happen.

"Nonna!" Katyusha's voice had a forlorn whine to it. Nonna wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, but she couldn't. Everything was pain. It rendered her unable to breathe. Her vision grew foggy and then faded to nothing as she passed out.

* * *

"Where is she? I have to see Nonna!" Katyusha charged into the hospital waiting room, making heads turn sideways first, then down as everyone pinpointed the source of the interruption.

"She's in a coma. She was in really bad shape when we brought her in. You'll have to wait until she's conscious," the doctor said as he blocked the door. "We've already conducted an emergency operation to fix her lung, so she won't be ready for visitors for a little while."

Katyusha looked around for someone to back her up, but found that she stood alone. She looked up at this six-foot man blocking her path, contemplated her own diminutive stature, realized she had no one to lift her onto their shoulders, and burst into tears.

The doctor crouched down in front of her and placed his hands reassuringly on her heaving and shaking shoulders. "It'll be all right. She'll come out of it eventually, just not today. Okay?" Katyusha nodded, unable to scold him for treating her like a child or anything like that. She was struck dumb by the situation, as helpless as she had been as a first-year. She wiped up some of her tears with her sleeve, not that it really helped.

She turned and plopped herself down in a waiting room chair, intent on waiting until the exact moment when Nonna would come back to her. After all Nonna had done for her, Katyusha was going to be there for her at the very least.

There she waited for hours, until at last a familiar face walked in. Klara. The one who always spoke Russian. She was struck by the gentle concern on Klara's face, especially compared to her own blind determination and fragility.

Klara exchanged a few words with the receptionist before looking for a seat in the waiting room. Her eyes met Katyusha's, and she changed course for the only other friend Nonna had in this world.

She sat down in the open seat on Katyusha's left. They said nothing but sat there in silence and waited.

* * *

It was late. Dinner time had come and gone. Katyusha sat curled up in her chair, asleep, with Klara's jacket spread over her as a makeshift blanket. A nurse approached them.

"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to come back tomorrow. We only have so much space, you know."

"Okay," Klara replied, sounding a little disappointed. "I'll wake her up and we'll go." She lifted Katyusha's sleeping form and the tiny girl yawned.

Katyusha's eyes blinked. "What's happening?" she demanded groggily.

"We're coming back tomorrow. She's still in a coma. From what they told me, Nonna was a hair's breadth away from death."

"Nonna? How? I thought she was strong!" Katyusha was awake now.

"You were there. You saw. Four decks. People have died from shorter falls."

Katyusha fell silent. So Nonna was strong. Hopefully she would be all right.

After a pause, Katyusha spoke up. "What about dinner? Nonna always gets me something for dinner."

Klara grimaced a little, but quickly relaxed so Katyusha wouldn't notice. So this was what Nonna had to handle every day, the irritating side of Katyusha's cuteness. Nonna must have had Stockholm syndrome from dealing with this. Oh well. As long as Katyusha was happy, everyone was happy.

Katyusha's tiny hand tugged her sleeve. It was getting dark. "I'm really hungry. Can we go get something?"

"Okay, Katyusha. We'll get some dinner. Best make it light, though."

Presently they happened upon a little hole-in-the-wall of a place. "'Nazdrovia Pizzeria,'" Klara said, reading the sign. "Sounds sketchy. At any rate, they're open late. Let's go."

* * *

The pizza had too much cheese for Katyusha's liking. She wasn't a big fan of Italian food as a whole, but it would have to do. Of course, there were other options, but this was the closest one to their route.

What were they doing to Nonna in the hospital? Was she in pain? Was she even awake? Alive? What would become of her? These questions swirled through her head, overwhelming her attempts at optimism, as she silently reached for another slice.

* * *

Out in front of the dorms, Klara breathed a sigh of relief. She was done dealing with Katyusha, at least for the night. She could handle being Nonna's backup, but taking on the role in its entirety was proving to be a bit too much. It had been a long day, but now she could finally get some rest.

Or so she thought.

Katyusha emerged from the dorm. "Aren't you going to come in? Nonna always tucks me in at bedtime."

Well. Nonna was in deeper than Klara had thought. She would hardly have been surprised by anything at this point.

"Come on, I need someone to help me at night!"

Klara looked at Katyusha with an expression that said, _Of course not, I'm tired and I'm going to bed!_

Katyusha's face fell, and she slowly retreated through the door, closing it behind her. Klara bit her lip as she realized her mistake. She thought about trying to correct it then and there, but she couldn't muster the energy to follow through.

She turned and headed for her own dorm, utterly spent.

* * *

Klara did not see Katyusha the next morning. After breakfast, she headed for the diminutive commander's dorm and quietly let herself in.

Katyusha was sitting upright in bed, her hands clutching a teddy bear, her eyes staring into space, and her mouth slightly open, as if trying to say something. She was shivering a little, and the dark circles under her eyes told Klara why.

As Klara entered, Katyusha's head whipped around toward the door, a whimper escaping her lips. "Katyusha's sorry..." she whispered hoarsely. "Not a wink of sleep."

"You mean you sat up all night worrying?" Klara was incredulous.

Katyusha just looked at her with pleading eyes.

"Well, come on. Class starts in an hour. Better not be late. Get up and get cleaned up!"

"Tired...so tired..."

"You and me both. Come on."

Katyusha slowly slunk out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom. Klara went back out the way she had come. Katyusha would have to figure it out herself today.

How was Nonna doing? That question had been in Klara's head all night. She would have to go and check at the hospital later. That would have to wait. Now was not the time.

* * *

Katyusha sat in class, unable to focus. It was basic stuff—gas law calculations were usually easy as pie. Today, it was next to impossible.

"Screw this," she muttered to herself. She reached into her pocket and drew out her phone. She had Nonna's medical record login. She began to type it in. This would be her lifeline, even if she couldn't be at the hospital all the time!

A ruler cracked across her upturned wrist and a hand seized the phone. The teacher was shouting something at her, but it didn't matter what it was. It felt like Nonna was slipping away from her with every passing hour.

Katyusha sat despondently in a corner for the rest of class. Surely they were all talking about her, gossiping about what the trouble was.

Was Commander "Drifting Snow" Katyusha really this weak in time of crisis? Would Nonna have allowed it?

* * *

"She's still not awake. Looks like we came here for nothing," said Klara as she returned from the front desk at the hospital later that day. "There's no telling how long a coma can last."

Katyusha's mouth twitched into a frown as she realized what Klara was saying. There was a possibility that Nonna would never come back to them.

"Bu-but she'll be all right, won't she? What's going on with her?"

"I don't know exactly what they're doing in there, but I'm sure they wouldn't want us to interrupt."

They left the hospital and returned to their dorms, each wondering how long this was going to take.

* * *

This went on for a week. Katyusha was listless by then. Klara was obviously a student of Nonna's in that caring way, but nothing quite beat the real deal. This was worse than if Nonna had been killed outright—at least there would have been closure. Now she was hanging in the balance between recovery and brain death. She was getting the worst of both worlds: the uncertainty of the outcome coupled with the feeling of loss.

At last, when Katyusha and Klara walked into the waiting room and Klara approached the front desk, she came back with a smile on her face.

"What is it? What is there to be happy about?" Katyusha asked dejectedly.

"She's awake. They just have to do a couple things and she'll be ready for visitors."

Katyusha could have jumped for joy, but thought better of it when she saw everyone glancing over at Klara. "It's been too long, Nonna! Katyusha missed you!" she said.

"Here's the bad news: she's not going to be released for another month."

"What!"

"Yeah. A month."

Well, that was no help at all! What was the point of these daily visits?

A nurse opened a door and called to them. "She's ready for you."


	2. Chapter 2

Nonna was groggy. The IV line felt weird. She was used to some discomfort, but needles were on another level for her. Oh well. It was the price she paid for surviving.

The curtain swished aside and her only two friends approached. Katyusha ran up to the side of the bed, her arms open as if for a hug.

"Uh-uh," the nurse chided. "She has more fractures than I can count. Might not be the best idea right now."

Nonna smiled at Katyusha. So nothing had changed. Katyusha was just as much of a child as ever. She must have really felt small without anyone to give her a piggyback ride.

Piggyback rides. Damn. They had told her she had a month or so before she would be ready to leave. Hardly surprising, given the numerous casts and slings they had rigged up in a framework over the bed.

"How have you been, Nonna? Katyusha's been worried sick," Klara said.

"It still hurts. Not as bad as it did, but it hurts." Nonna's voice had a mournful tone to it despite her smile.

She remembered next to nothing about the accident besides feeling like she had betrayed Katyusha just by allowing herself to get hurt. The tyrannical little commander had made her suffer so much, but this one wasn't Katyusha's fault. It was all her own.

Katyusha spoke up. "I missed you."

For all the yelling and swearing and humiliation Katyusha was given to hurling at everyone else, those three words meant more to Nonna than anything else right now.

"You look tired," she said. "Have you slept well?"

"She hasn't," Klara cut in. "She was up all night waiting that first night."

"Klara! Don't answer for me! I'm not a child!"

Nonna and Klara just smiled at each other. It was reassuring to see that Katyusha was her usual self. Klara would have to get used to this.

They spent half an hour talking about the accident and its aftermath. Finally, Nonna's friends took their leave. As they headed out of the hospital with relieved smiles on their faces, Nonna murmured to herself, "Christ, it was just pentobarbital, nothing more."

* * *

School had gotten lonely for Katyusha. She had few friends, if any, when Nonna wasn't around. Klara was some help, but she seemed too caught up in her own social life to make time for Katyusha. The hospital visits were tapering off now that they didn't have to worry about Nonna dying. Things were looking up, but other things had fallen by the wayside. It had been ages since Katyusha had ridden on anyone's shoulders. She was more tired by the end of the day than she had been in a long time.

She could hear her classmates talking about her. "There's the midget who needs a piggyback ride."

"Back in her place. Actually, not quite. She's six feet too high."

"She's at ground level."

"I know."

"You're still bitter about it?"

"Well, aren't you?"

"I gave up trying to beat her dwarf ass long ago. It's pointless."

If Katyusha was feeling small before, she felt like a cockroach now. No one wanted anything to do with her, and she was completely defenseless against whatever might come her way.

Actually, scratch that. Cockroaches were tough, much tougher than she was right now.

She headed for the main office, ready to submit the month's paperwork from the Sensha-do team. As she rounded a corner, she suddenly bumped into someone. The first thought she had was to defend herself. This could easily end in a beating, and the passage of time had not erased the memories of how much peroxide stung.

Wait a minute...the person had a different shape...a boy?

Katyusha instinctively looked up, but found to her amazement that this interloper only stood a few inches above herself. He couldn't possibly be much of a threat.

"Oh...um...excuse me," the boy said. His face flushed. "My apologies. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"No big deal," Katyusha replied, consciously trying to let this one go. "I'm Katyusha. I command the Pravda Sensha-do team—"

"Yes, yes, I'm aware." There was a hint of a Russian accent. It reminded her a bit of Klara, only this guy's was more pronounced.

"So? Who are you?"

"My name is Nikita. I'm here on official business."

"What sort of official business?"

"You know, the kind I can't just talk about."

Katyusha caught herself smiling a little. This kid was a funny one. He lived without fear of Snowstorm Katyusha, unlike virtually everyone else around.

Having sufficiently recovered from her initial surprise, Katyusha sized him up in greater detail. His stature was slightly taller than her own, but he couldn't have been more than four-eight. Definitely much shorter than any guys she had ever met. He looked kind of cute, with a pair of coke-bottle glasses distorting his bright blue eyes. His hair was somewhere between brown and blond, though Katyusha couldn't remember what exactly that was called.

Her thoughts drifted to that slouching geek from Ooarai—what was her name? Nekonya?—who commanded a Chi-Nu. The one who could probably be a good tank commander if her crew could get it together. But that was beside the point. Here was a guy who stood almost as low as Katyusha did but didn't seem to take it too hard.

Under his white polo shirt, Katyusha could see a little bit of muscle. Not a whole lot, but he definitely wasn't weak either. Her eyes traveled downwards...

"I'd best be going. Good morning."

Katyusha chuckled to herself as she entered the office and he walked away. A boy on the Pravda school ship? How strange! He seemed nice enough, though. At least he didn't intimidate her. That was good.

"Nikita..."

"Commander? The paperwork?" The lady behind the desk held out an expectant hand.

"Yes, right here."

* * *

Nonna looked at the cast encasing her torso. How the hell did they expect her to heal from surgery and a hundred broken bones at the same time?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Klara approaching her bedside. "Nonna."

"Klara. How have you been these last few days?"

"Oh, you know. Business as usual. Really nothing ever changes here."

Nonna laughed. "What about Katyusha?"

"Rather quiet lately. Hasn't said a word to me since Tuesday. Told me about someone she met, though."

"Oh?" Nonna was suddenly intrigued.

"Someone by the name of Nikita, I believe. She didn't tell me much else."

"He wouldn't happen to be really short and have thick glasses, would he?"

"That sounds about right."

"I know who he is. I used to go to school with his cousin. He struck me as a cold character. That was eight years ago, though, so I can't speak to what he's like now."

Klara's eyes widened a little. Who knew?

* * *

Katyusha waited outside the office. Nikita had gone in twenty minutes ago. What was taking so long?

Then she remembered: he didn't even know she was taking a shine to him. He was probably as indifferent and clueless about it as she would expect. After all, she held power at Pravda by being the antithesis of girlfriend material.

Wait a minute! Girlfriend material?! Was she already thinking of their dynamic as being like that? Klara had told her that Nonna knew him once. How could the sweet little guy she had met be cold? He came across as a lovely guy to be around, even if he was quite focused on the task at hand. He just had that aura.

Katyusha sighed. She approached the door to check in on Nikita when it swung open and nearly hit her in the face. She yelled in surprise and jumped back a foot, preparing to chew out whoever did that.

"Watch when you open the—Nikita?" The short boy peeked out from behind the door, looking impassive as ever.

"Commander Katyusha."

She loved the way he said her name. He had no idea how much she loved hearing those three syllables the way they were meant to be pronounced.

"Did I say something wrong, Commander? You're all red in the face."

Katyusha felt herself blushing. She squared her shoulders. "No, it's nothing. Carry on."

What was he even doing on the ship? It was a girls' school, so surely there was something important he was doing.

As Nikita walked away, he shot her a glance over his glasses that seemed to look down into the depths of her soul, searching for whatever was making her show up everywhere he went.

When he had gone, Katyusha struggled to contain a squeal of delight. "Katyusha..." she whispered, trying to replicate his Russian accent.

Klara's hand on her shoulder told her to shut it and come to dinner.

* * *

Nonna had just finished her meal (which was all right, considering that it was a hospital meal) and was wondering how she could stomach any more of that stuff when a nurse approached.

"You have a visitor. He signed in as 'Nikita,' last name illegible. He's in the waiting room."

Nonna's ears perked up. Was this the same Nikita that Katyusha had been stalking and talking about?

"Send him in."

The first thing she saw was the glasses. Those entered the room, and the rest of the boy followed. She marveled at how little he had grown in eight years. He approached Nonna's bed and pulled up a chair.

"You know why I'm here, yes?"

"Not exactly. What in particular?"

"Katyusha. She keeps appearing wherever I go. What's the story there? Why can't I live in peace?"

"I think she likes you," Nonna replied. She paused to allow Nikita time to raise an eyebrow. "She's been under my wing for so long that she doesn't know how to be subtle."

"And here I thought she was trying to make my life hell."

"Don't push her away. If she wants to come out and tell you she wants your heart, she will. Again, she struggles with subtlety."

"She blushes when I address her."

"Like a fifth grader, isn't she?"

"Indeed," Nikita replied with a chuckle. "I'll tread lightly for now, just try and go about my business as usual."

"Good luck."

Nikita stood up and strolled out. Nonna wondered if this was really the same Nikita she had met (and been somewhat afraid of) so many years ago. The exceedingly short visit seemed just like him, though. Down to business and not adding in the fluff that most would have given her. Regardless, Katyusha was more or less free to do with him as she wished.

* * *

Katyusha marched through the hallways of the hospital, following the path ingrained into her by a dozen visits. As she approached the ward where Nonna was, Nikita emerged, a characteristically blank expression on his face with added depth from those glasses.

"Hey, Nikita!"

"Um...good afternoon, Commander. I was just leaving." His face had gone white as a sheet.

"See you later!" Katyusha said playfully. To her disappointment, Nikita just gave a nod and left.

She almost called after him, but remembered that she was there to see Nonna. She sighed and went in.

* * *

"You mean you bumped into him on the way in?" Nonna was almost laughing.

"Yes, it just happened that way!"

"Just happened, my ass!"

"No, really! I have no idea why he was here!"

"He paid me a visit." Nonna suddenly turned serious. "And it sounds like you stalking him is creepy, it's weird, and it just makes him wonder if you're psychotic."

"Why so harsh, Nonna?" Katyusha began to tear up a little.

"Oh, shut off the waterworks. Try to see things from his perspective."

"Well, doesn't he get it?"

"I got in touch with my old friend, his cousin. Nikita's never dated or done anything of that sort. He's as blind to your signals as you are to his oblivion. Quite frankly, he thinks you hate him."

Katyusha could hardly hide her dismay. Here she was, trying to get Nikita to like her, and he had the exact wrong idea.

"Well, what am I supposed to do? Leave him alone?"

"Not exactly. Just go gently on him. Or you could just come out and say it. To his face. He won't know otherwise."

"But isn't he supposed to do that?"

"Never be afraid to make the first move," Nonna replied. "You'll make quite the impression that way."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Then prepare to spend the rest of your life alone."

"Nonna!"


	3. Chapter 3

Katyusha stumbled away from the lockers, her face swollen and bruised. How exactly just minding her own business had turned into a fight was beyond her, but somehow things had turned out that way.

"Are you fucking stupid?" one of the taller girls hissed at her friend, who was nursing her bruised knuckles. "You know this one's going to bite you in the ass, I hope? You know the commander has Nonna as a friend—"

"And Nonna is in the hospital. There's no broom handle around or anything. Easy pickings. Vengeance is mine, a couple years too late."

Katyusha slumped down against the wall, groaning in pain. She was pretty sure one of the blows had drawn blood. What the hell was wrong with these three? Why couldn't they just leave her alone?

The clicking of an expensive pair of dress shoes sounded through the hallway. It was Nikita! How was she to look in any way presentable in front of him now? Her face was a mess, her hair all matted and tangled. Of course he was going to turn up his nose at her appearance, what with his immaculately cleaned and pressed clothes, mirror-shiny shoes, and tenderly put-together hair. She was screwed.

Nikita's voice sliced through the silence. "Help Commander Katyusha back up, if you would be so kind. No, I don't care if your knuckles hurt. Help her up."

"You're the gentleman here, midget man. You do it."

"Like I said, I don't care if your knuckles hurt. Do it now." His voice had suddenly become menacing.

Instead of complying, the girl who had unloaded twenty-four punches into Katyusha's face turned on Nikita and swung at him. Instead of falling unconscious, he casually put up an arm and the blow glanced off at a shallow angle. As the girl lost her balance, Nikita caught her in the stomach with a knee and put her in a choke hold with his elbow in a V. He swung around, planted a foot in the back of her knee, and then dropped her to the floor, shaking his head.

A chorus of protests erupted from the girls nearby:

"That was excessive! You don't hit a lady!"

"That," Nikita responded coolly, "was no lady. That was a bitch."

"How dare you…" One of the other girls approached with a set of brass knuckles and held them up in front of Nikita's face. He could read, engraved into the metal:

FOR KATYUSHA

He slipped his hand into his pocket. When it came back out, there was something long and black in it. He nudged a little gray button and the polished switchblade flashed into view between his face and the brass knuckles.

"Don't fuck with a real Russian," he said as he backed away and pointed the knife at the girl. "Since you refuse to help me out here, I will take care of Commander Katyusha myself." He took her hand and pulled her onto her feet.

"I don't even go here. I am not bound by your school regulations. You're not supposed to have brass knuckles in school." The knife did not waver. "Enjoy your suspension." He led Katyusha away, taking note of her awestruck expression. There were no protests from the other girls. Not a peep. They were all too stunned by what they had just seen. The knife clicked shut.

* * *

"Ow!"

"Shh, shh, Commander. It's just peroxide."

"It still hurts!"

"You think I don't know that?"

Katyusha didn't know how to respond. There was no clear way to say anything without sounding like a whiny bitch or making it awkward.

Nevertheless, she remembered what Nonna had said and decided to give it a shot. "Nikita?"

"Commander?"

"Um, do you want—uh, would you like—um, never mind," she stammered, red-faced beneath the bruises with embarrassment.

Nikita just smiled and got out another cotton round. He poured a little peroxide onto it and touched it to another scrape.

"AAH! God!"

* * *

"Well, that's the second time she's gotten her ass handed to her since she came here," Nonna said. "You know, Klara, I always doubted her ability to handle herself, and this only confirms it."

"You don't have to be so hard on her. She's only four foot two. She's not MMA material or anything."

"Maybe, but she should at least be capable of staying out of trouble!"

"Kind of unrelated, she says she tried to ask Nikita out but got nervous and choked on her words. Wishes he would ask her."

"He's not the type to do that. You have to make an effort, otherwise he assumes you're not interested."

"What an ass."

"Well, he's just introverted. Not to say he doesn't have his moments. He just doesn't make a habit of getting out there and meeting people."

"Do you think he'd get the idea even if she did come out and ask him?"

"Hey, I told him Katyusha likes him. I'll let him do what he wants with that. His ego hasn't been stroked since he left home."

"Huh?"

"His cousin told me via text that he's been bullied for his height, especially by immature short girls. He seems to be pretty female-averse, with only a few exceptions. We'll just have to see how this goes."

"So why's he here?"

"I'm getting to that. You know how he goes to St. Basil Academy?"

"Yeah, the place from Vladivostok. Why?"

"He's been assigned as a Sensha-do liaison. Apparently the St. Basil tankery team wants to collaborate with us in the near future."

"Any other details while you're at it, Miss KGB?"

"None thus far. And don't call me Miss KGB."

* * *

"What the fuck were you thinking?" a tall, imposing Russian man hissed at Nikita. "First you knock a girl out, then you pull a goddamn switchblade? Shame on you."

Nikita just stared into space. His superiors at St. Basil just didn't get it, did they? He was one against what amounted to an army. Besides, he was lending a hand to someone who was as good as dead in a fight against three larger opponents.

"I did what I had to do. I don't want to imagine what else is they might have done to her. They had brass knuckles."

"And you had a switchblade. What a genius. Now they see you as a thug and a threat. You and anyone else we send over there will have to do a lot of watching over shoulders. What's more, you hit a girl several times when she hadn't hit you more than—"

"She had punched Katyusha bloody. I wasn't taking chances."

"We're leaving you in your position for now, but you watch your ass. You let your dick decide your moves and not your brain."

"Enough already! Unlike you, I'm not a white knight. I just stepped in to help, dammit!"

"That was low. Get out of my office right now."

"Good day to you too, asshole."

* * *

Katyusha was walking between classes when Nina accosted her.

"Commander? What happened? What's with the bandages?"

Katyusha fixed her with a glare. "Mind your own business."

"It's to do with that guy from St. Basil, isn't it?"

"Shut up."

"He's also pretty short. A match made in—mmph!"

Katyusha had approached, clamped a hand over Nina's mouth with surprising strength, and whispered in her ear. "Don't make me purge you. His name's Nikita, I'm not dating him, and neither are you. You'd do well to remember that." She released her grip on her slightly petrified subordinate. "Now run along before I change my mind about sparing your life."

Nina darted away, confused. Katyusha had been unusually forceful in how she responded to her words. There was definitely something more between them than Katyusha was letting on, but it was not her place to try and drive them apart. Or was it?

* * *

Nikita hung up the phone, bemused by what he had just heard. He had gotten a call from Nina, who had filled him in on exactly how the school was run.

How did Nina get his number in the first place?—Oh, wait, her brother attended St. Basil and knew a guy who knew a guy who knew Nikita.

So apparently Katyusha ran Pravda like a dictator, with an every-whim approach to controlling people. No wonder so many people hated her. Probably the only reason she didn't control him was because he was a St. Basil Sensha-do liaison. At least he was on her good side.

The benefits of this were debatable, but for better or for worse, everyone at Pravda was afraid of him. Him, of all people! The four-foot-eight kid! The guy who weighed less than a hundred pounds! The guy who was concerned with his appearance so much that he used a switchblade to avoid a knock-down, drag-out brawl as much as possible.

Anyway, what was up with Katyusha's tactics? Why was there never a Plan B, when St. Basil always had a Plan C or more?

Was the school about to go to hell if Katyusha wasn't checked in her fits of rage that Nina had complained about? That was usually Nonna's job, wasn't it?

So that was the slice of life that everyone hid from him just to keep him there. Oh, he knew there were girls ogling him with every step he took. Whether it was with adoration or disdain was the real question.

But wait...wasn't Katyusha interested in him, if Nonna's words were to be believed? How was that going to play out for everyone else?

_Dear God_, he thought, _don't let her do something stupid._

* * *

"As many of you know, this is Nikita. He represents St. Basil in setting up a joint training team with Pravda. Please welcome him and make him feel at home."

_Fat chance of that,_ he thought. The girl at the podium continued:

"You undoubtedly remember our loss to Ooarai in the last tournament. St. Basil Academy from the European league, has offered us one of their top strategists. The idea here is to combine tactics and figure out how to make sure we don't lose. We each bring something valuable to the table."

There was a half-hearted applause, followed by the din of everyone shuffling out of the large conference room. Klara walked up to Nikita and shook his hand.

"Katyusha's said a lot of things about you."

"Oh? What sorts of things?"

Before Klara could answer, the tiny commander approached. "Hey, Nikita!"

That's the second time she's said that, the voice in his head intoned.

"Come on, Klara, I'm hungry! Let's get something to eat." She flashed a grin and a wink at Nikita. "Feel free to join us."

"Um...I think I'll take you up on that offer, Commander Katyusha. Where to?"

* * *

Katyusha took her seat across from Nikita at the table. Somewhat to her surprise, Klara sat down next to her, looking Nikita in the eye. The Russian boy simply looked back at her until she blinked.

"Ha, I win," he droned, dropping his napkin into his lap.

"Why do you always pick Italian food, Klara?" Katyusha whined. "You know I don't like it."

"It's reliable enough," Klara responded with a slight grimace. "Besides, I'm Russian. I like something other than Russian classics now and then."

"But this is what you always pick!"

Klara smiled. She had no answer for that one, so she changed the subject.

"I stopped by the hospital today. Nonna's done with her various polymer filler operations, just waiting for a couple more things before starting physical therapy."

Nikita looked up. "After a month of not walking, I'd hate to imagine how hard that would be."

"Well, she'd better figure it out, because I need a ride!"

Klara and Nikita both laughed. Katyusha, realizing what she had just said, reddened. "Shut up, both of you!" But it wasn't enough to stop herself from slowly breaking out in a grin and joining them in peal after peal of laughter that turned annoyed heads from everyone else in the place.

At last the waitress approached. They ordered beverages and appetizers—some kind of stuffed mushrooms?—and reverted to more serious conversation.

"So, how much longer?" Klara asked Katyusha.

"She should be good to leave in a couple weeks," the diminutive commander replied, "but she'll be confined to a wheelchair for everyday activities while PT continues."

"It's been so long since she's seen the outside world."

"This ship, though a large one, is a very small world," Nikita said. "I can't imagine she's forgotten that much of it."

After more idle chit-chat, the waitress returned with appetizers and they placed their orders, with Klara guiding Katyusha's eyes to what she knew to be the most filling dishes on the entire menu.

By the end of the evening, the three of them had gone into a food-comatose state and were cracking the most immature of jokes because they were too full to think about what they were really saying.

"I can safely say that I took the biggest thing available and swallowed it!"

Klara shook her head. "Katyusha...that's just wrong."


	4. Chapter 4

Nonna clamped her jaw shut in pain as the harness lowered her feet to the floor.

"If at any time it gets to be too much, just let me know." The technician's finger hovered tantalizingly over the joystick controlling the harness.

"Jesus Christ, this hurts." They were adding some slack and her legs were now supporting her full weight.

She didn't want to go on. It was too much. It took every ounce of energy she had not to start howling. But she had to. For Katyusha, for Klara, for all the others she didn't even know she influenced. She had to endure it. Her hands grasped the rails at waist height. Her upper body was back to normal, it could support her weight, but her legs were a mess. Everything felt like it was being stuck with pins and needles. She could take it no more.

"Up," she croaked. The harness hummed to life and lifted her back off the floor, panting and gasping.

* * *

As Nikita emerged from the office, he half expected to see Katyusha waiting for him, but Nina was there instead.

"Hi," she mumbled. "We spoke on the phone."

"Oh, yes, that call. The one about how things work here. I think I remember."

"Yeah...she's a dictator. About as toxic as they come. Might not be a good idea to—"

"What?"

Nina fell silent, her train of thought cut off by Nikita's query.

"No, really, what?"

"I...uh...thought you were, uh, going out with her...sorry..."

"I'm not dating her," Nikita clarified, "though I'm not going to rule it out as a possibility just yet. I had dinner with her and Klara last night. It was fun, until Katyusha started cracking dick jokes."

Nina gaped at this. Obviously Katyusha was either getting comfortable or too nervous to watch her words.

"That was my reaction too," Nikita said with a smile. "More importantly, it sounds like Nonna is in physical therapy and should be ready to go in a few weeks."

Nina's face twisted into something of a nervous grin. "She'll probably start defending Katyusha tooth and nail again."

"Try and stay on Katyusha's good side. You know the drill."

"Too well."

"If that's all, I'll be on my way." Nikita turned on his heel and headed for his office, such as it was—a little storage closet converted for his use. He had a lot of work to do. Dinner had set him back half a day on setting up a joint training session.

From nearby, Katyusha heard the voices cease and the sound of Nikita approaching. She ducked into the shadows, with more questions than she cared to know the answers to.

* * *

Nonna lifted her right foot a couple inches off the floor. For how weak her legs were, they were so damn heavy. By the time she set it down a little ways in front of where it had been, she had broken out in a sweat.

She had returned to her wheelchair, exhausted, when Katyusha showed up. "Hi, Nonna!"

"Katyusha. What's new since yesterday?"

"Oh, the usual. Dealing with idiots, handling Sensha-do, and wondering if Nina's after Nikita."

"So what are you waiting for? Just ask him out! Don't let Nina get to him before you do."

"Here's the thing: I told her to keep her mitts off him. She obviously wants to defy me on that score."

"Just don't do anything rash. You may run the social order here, but you are not the supreme ruler of the school. We have staff for that."

"Don't threaten me!"

"I'm not threatening, I'm warning. There are fish bigger than you here."

Katyusha glared at her. "I didn't come all the way here for you to insult my intelligence and height."

"You're not bound to stay here."

"Anyway." Katyusha's mood had shifted abruptly back to her usual lively self. "How's therapy?"

"Same as yesterday, hurts like hell. You forget exactly how heavy your legs are when you use them on a daily basis."

Katyusha was silent for a little while, before suddenly lifting her head. "Got to go. See you later!"

Nonna sighed. Katyusha was really trying to emulate Nikita, wasn't she? Hasty hospital visits and all.

But hopefully not the violence that Nikita was capable of.

* * *

Nina opened the door to her room and recoiled in shock. There, on her dresser, was a black wreath.

On a large ribbon covering part of the wreath, the words "TURN AROUND SLOWLY" stood out in gold embroidery.

She spun around with a gasp, as if the wreath was pulling her. Nobody there. Just her, the wreath, and a fruit fly that briefly crossed in front of her face.

"What the hell?" she muttered as beads of sweat began to form on her forehead.

* * *

"You did WHAT?"

"It's nothing really, Klara. Just to scare her a little, get her to back off. Nothing to it." Katyusha's triumphant grin was definitely off-putting.

"What concerns me most about this is how you even got into her room in the first place."

"I was able to convince someone to pick the lock."

"Someone? Who?"

"That's for me to know and you to never guess. I'm not a child."

"Could've fooled me!"

Katyusha bristled. Klara just didn't seem to understand. Nina was a threat, wasn't that obvious? She, too, was interested in Nikita and seemed to be making an attempt to fool him into taking her.

"Whatever happened to purging? Good old fashioned purging? Isn't that your preferred way of dealing with things?"

"Katyusha wants to be more mature about it! Purges are a mindless technique. This requires brains."

"Start by purging the third person from references to yourself. Then we'll talk."

* * *

Nina struggled under the heavy load. It was always one thing or another, ending in some sort of punishment. Today it had been a botched attempt at making coffee, so she had been assigned to lug ammunition for the IS-2 that Nonna sometimes operated in preparation for training. Of course they had been one cart short and she had been the last to get there. Either the backpack or her spine would be the first to give out; it was just a matter of which. She was the loader in a KV-2, but they hadn't said anything about hauling six shells in one go.

She lived in mortal terror of Katyusha, whose despotic will was the sole reason for her being put on this job. It also had something to do with Nikita, if she had to guess. The various punishments had gotten more severe and more frequent. They were no longer mind-numbing, to be fair, but they would wear her out really fast. Lugging shells was no exception. What was next? Penalties of a more medieval variety? Confinement to a small closet that may or may not be infested with rats for three hours? Oh, wait; that was yesterday. Over talking to someone else Katyusha held a grudge against, wasn't it? No need to say anything about the Gulag. This was the Gulag, just on board one of the biggest ships known to man.

If only Nonna was here. Nina didn't particularly like the taller girl, to be sure, but she was the voice of reason when Katyusha decided to mete out punishment. Now the little Stalinette was going unchecked.

Perhaps the whole thing with Nikita was the only thing keeping Katyusha somewhat sane. She couldn't go too far without losing him. But she still would lose him, because Nina was going to get there first! She, the underdog who was always in trouble, would be the one to finally get revenge on Katyusha! Oh, how sweet it would be! Then Nikita would have to defend her, and she wouldn't have to worry anymore.

"Move faster! You'll take eight shells next run. Then you'll cover the rest of the tanks! Come on, are you daydreaming? Get moving!"

Nina's whole body ached from all the work. Now Katyusha was demanding that she do more than she had thought possible.

"And no cart. You have muscles. Use them!"

Okay, that was pushing it. No choice but to comply, though, as she had no idea what Katyusha's depraved mind might dredge up.

Midway through her first eight-shell haul, she collapsed. Shells spilled out of the open leather backpack and rolled out all over the floor. She fell flat on her face and stayed there, lest trying to get back up be viewed as defiance—which wasn't too much of a stretch.

"Get up! Pick up the shells. You still have another run to do. Then you can do the KV next!"

Klara's voice broke the high-pitched yelling. "Katyusha, leave her be. I think she's had enough for one day."

"But what about the other tanks?"

"You see how many others there are? They have carts. They can handle it. Don't worry."

Nina nearly wept in relief. This was a never-ending cycle of punishment that would wear her out on a daily basis, opening her up to another transgression, and the punishments didn't stop coming.

Another voice sounded. A male voice, not Nikita's. Probably a staff member. "Commander Katyusha, what's this? Why is she on the floor? Why are there shells everywhere?"

"We're handling it," Klara said, obviously to prevent Katyusha from saying something that would incriminate herself.

For a while, neither Katyusha nor Klara said anything. The man had gone. Nina could hear the carts rolling in the background. There was a squeaky wheel on one of them. It sounded like the rats. They had made a hell of a racket in the darkness of the closet. There was no way she was going to obey another order to go in there. Rats carried disease. It was one of her truths. Besides, they might bite. They were kind of bristly and there was no telling how many of them there might be. She had pounded on the door after a few brushes with those rodents, begging to be released. There had been a table pushed in front of the door instead. By the end of three hours, she had been reduced to a blubbering mess on the floor, covered in grime and quaking in anticipation of the next brush with a rat.

Such was life on Katyusha's bad side.

Eventually the work was done and the others all left. Klara was the only one who stayed.

"Katyusha's gone," the Russian girl whispered. "You can get up now."

Nina's face was blank as she got to her feet. Klara held a cup of coffee out to her. She took it gingerly, as if it was the most delicate flower in the world.

"Drink that. You look like you need it."

Klara turned and disappeared into the shadows of the evening.

* * *

Nikita was sitting at his desk when there was a knock on the door. He rose and opened it.

No sooner had the door gotten halfway open than Nina sank into his arms, sniffling.

"What the hell?" Nikita muttered under his breath. He freed one arm and pulled up a chair, setting Nina down in it before returning to his desk chair.

"What is it?" Something was obviously very wrong, but he would have to see how much he could pry from her.

"Forced labor," came the hoarse reply. "Lugging shells."

"I've done stuff like that before. What's the big deal?"

"Try lugging eight IS-2 shells at the same time without a cart."

"Holy shit."

"That's not even the worst of it. Yesterday they locked me in a closet with rats. It was awful."

"Who's they?" Nikita had finally figured out what question he wanted to ask.

"Katyusha."

Nikita leaned back in his chair. This was the side of Katyusha he hadn't seen, just heard about. If Nina was to be believed, he was being wooed by a psychopath. A sadist if ever there was one.

As if in lockstep with his thoughts, Nina stood up and lifted her skirt. There was a set of little red marks where a rat had bitten her. It looked like it hurt a lot.

"Why does she do this? What possible reason does she have?" Nikita was in disbelief.

Nina shrugged, then turned away. "That's the thing."

Nikita buried his face in his hands. He had just been texting with Katyusha and she had said something about being late to his office that night. Something about complicated business.

Oh shit! It involved Nina!

Nikita was about to move when another knock at the door made his heart sink. Katyusha was here.

Nina's eyes widened and turned towards the door, an expression of horror creeping over her face. Nikita got up to answer the door, bracing for whatever might come next.

He opened the door and let Katyusha in. Her face was radiant. She looked so happy to see him. Then she saw Nina.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped. "Get out. Go to bed or I really start to give you a hard time—"

She stopped, realizing she had said too much. In front of Nikita too.

Katyusha turned and ran from the office.


	5. Chapter 5

Nonna cocked her head at Katyusha. "So? Just because she's in his office doesn't mean they're screwing each other. With someone like Nikita, it's really no deeper than just conversation."

"I can't be sure, though! He could be cheating on me!"

"Two things: first, you're not even dating. Second, you sound like a whiny bitch."

Nonna paused for a moment, then continued. "You say you told Nina you'd give her an even harder time. Consider how that sounds to Nikita. You come across as psychotic, which is exactly what I've been trying to get you to avoid!"

Katyusha thought for a second. "Well, what am I supposed to do? Let Nina off easy? Actions have consequences."

"True enough," Nonna replied, "but make sure it doesn't get in the way of you and Nikita."

"I won't let it, not if I can help it."

"Time is running out, Katyusha. If you want him, you're going to have to make a move now and figure out how to allay his fears."

* * *

They really knew how to treat guests on this ship. Nikita was really cozy in this guest cabin. It wasn't as refined as the dorm setup, but it was within easy reach of whatever he might need. This bedspread must have cost a fortune. For what it was, it was pure luxury.

You couldn't find this stuff at St. Basil. If they had decided to have Pravda send a liaison, they would have probably fixed her up with a little hellhole because everything else was in use.

Screw it. He couldn't distract himself from the issue at hand any longer. Katyusha, flying under the radar, had been psychologically torturing Nina for the past week. That was what the punishments amounted to. Where was Nonna's voice of reason when the world needed it? The prospect of a relationship with Katyusha was looking less and less appealing. For as oddly cute as she was, he was having a hard time getting past all this. He could only imagine what it was like for Nina, who suffered so much under Katyusha's iron fist that she felt the need to run to him. Was she also trying to get at him? Many days of pondering had given no answer. There was a pretty compelling case for it, though. He had watched similar things unfold at St. Basil among the freshmen—they would end up in a battle over someone (both guys and girls did this) and it would never end well. What was going on now would be nothing new if it was the case.

For as hard as his logical mind was telling him to perish the thought of getting together with Katyusha, something in his heart was telling him there was something there. But that couldn't be! His instincts always told him to take the logical path. It was surely a product of his complete lack of experience in this area.

He rolled over in bed and sighed. It was one o'clock in the morning. He really needed to get some sleep.

* * *

Nina's palms were all sweaty as she poured coffee first into Katyusha's cup, then into Klara's. This was a big day. Nonna was being released from the hospital today, though physical therapy would continue. The last thing Nina wanted was to mess up something else on so monumental an occasion (monumental as defined by Katyusha) and end up on the breaking wheel or something like that.

"Cream!" Katyusha's voice sounded like a puppy, yapping in the simplest of terms for this and that, with all the controlling power in the world.

Nina scooped up a handful of the little cream tubs. There had been a strange lack of punishment following her visit to Nikita. The thought of rats or closets still made her shudder. Was that the intention, just making her squirm? It was a lot of effort to do what the wreath had done efficiently. She had to admit, in the few weeks since that particular incident, nothing had been more clever than that.

She distributed the cream around the table and made her exit. Time to check the assignment boards for today. They served as a plan for who was doing what.

She looked at the list and gulped. Katyusha had put her on cleaning duty in the briefing room. That meant that either it was done perfectly or you suffered.

It was going to be a really long day.

* * *

Nonna nudged the joystick forward and the motorized wheelchair moved accordingly. Everything felt so strange. It was like some kind of first-person shooter game, minus the gun.

Only a couple weeks using this thing. Therapy was going swimmingly. As much as she would have liked to get right back to piggyback rides, that would have to wait.

God, she had so much catching up to do. Luckily she wasn't enrolled in summer classes, but still, a lot had happened since her accident.

They had all been there for her release—Katyusha, Klara, Alina, and others—but not Nina. Nina was on cleaning duty, wasn't she? Better make the briefing room spotless.

What did Katyusha have lined up for the KV-2 loader if she failed?

She thought about it, then decided that she really didn't want to know.

* * *

"You missed a spot." All the color drained out of Nina's face. She began to slowly back away.

"Nadia! Zoya! Hold her! Samara! Bring the Wedge!" Katyusha flashed Nina a sadistic grin as the latter began to sweat bullets.

Of all the abuses Katyusha had inflicted Nina, this was one of the most messed-up. She had seen the Wedge before. It was an old doorstop about four feet long and wide, to be mounted on a base with the sharpest edge up in the air.

It had been a doorstop for the large tank garages before a hydraulic system was installed. It was made of steel and must have weighed at least a couple hundred pounds, judging from the casters it was always on.

Since then, it had only been used on a Saunders spy, who had cracked in two minutes when forced to straddle its most acute edge.

That thing looked like it hurt a lot.

Why? Why was Katyusha doing this? It was just over a boy and a hard-to-reach spot of dust. What was taking Nikita so long to decide he didn't like Katyusha one bit?

Nina started to run, but Nadia and Zoya quickly restrained her, zip-tying her wrists together behind her back.

There was a squeaky wheel.

Oh, God. A squeaking noise. Not again. Like those rats!

They were lifting her up off the floor. Samara was pushing the wedge into the room.

She was too scared to even thrash. Her mind just wouldn't do it, no matter how much strength she had gained from being a loader of the heaviest shells Pravda had to offer. They were carrying her now, over to the wedge.

They were setting her down now. Right on the wedge. Straddling it. It hurt. It made her double over, almost to the point of hitting her face on the edge. Her knees pressed together, trying to ease the pain, but it didn't work. It wasn't like the rats. This was unrelenting.

Nina gasped in pain and disbelief at Katyusha's rash and unfettered brutality. It was all she could do to keep from screaming, but tears and sweat flowed down her face.

Nikita was walking in. The lighting hid his eyes behind his glasses.

For a moment, Nina looked at him, silently pleading for help as she began to feel dizzy.

Finally, Nikita spoke. He uttered a single word that rattled the walls.

"Enough."

And Katyusha was sheepishly helping her off the wedge, and everything hurt down there. How long had she been on it? It didn't matter much to her.

Nonna rolled in and started yelling something at Katyusha, who was just sitting there silently, looking just as trapped as Nina but by something else.

Now she could hear Nonna's words: "You think she's after a guy you like, so you decide to do this? Get real! I thought you were going to figure things out while I was in the hospital. Looks like I was wrong. I'm done with this." She rolled back out of the room.

"Nonna!"

Katyusha was looking up with concern.

"Nonna!" There was that forlorn whine she used to get her way.

"No." Nonna's voice was disappearing down the hall. Katyusha ran after her.

* * *

"I don't know what to do, Nikita," Nonna sighed. "I'm out of ideas. Quite frankly, I don't think she deserves anyone at the moment. For your part, you deserve better."

Nikita drummed his fingers on his desk, pondering what to say. "She was your closest friend right up until now. You're sure you want to ditch her? Things could get even uglier."

"It's just...I can handle traditional punishments for more serious offenses—extra work for theft, detention for breaking curfew—but all this for a trivial missed spot is definitely not something I can let her get away with. You were there. You saw. There's no way she can get off scot-free for this. She's already been hit with a referral pending discipline. She could use some."

"I'm really not sure what to do right now," said Nikita. "On one hand, everything is screaming at me to avoid her if possible, but on the other, something tells me she's not beyond hope. As for Nina, I feel like I've seen too much with her for there to be a spark. I'd hate to ruin her day, but I can't look at her the same anymore."

Nonna rolled her eyes. "Katyusha's the one we're talking about, not Nina."

"Well, if you had been stuck on that wedge for five minutes, with how sharp that thing is, would you appreciate being marginalized in this conversation?"

"You seem surprisingly in tune with how she thinks."

"Let's just say she tells me a lot."

Nonna's face was a tapestry of sadness. After she had come back to Katyusha, her friend had betrayed her. Now Klara was taking Katyusha's side, and she had only Nikita for company.

She wished someone would tell her a lot like Nina did Nikita. She was no one's number one now.

Coming back was supposed to be a chance to get used to life again. Instead she had come back and gotten her heart torn in two.

* * *

Katyusha looked on from her commander's hatch at the training battle unfolding before her. She had assigned Nonna to her IS-2 so she wouldn't have to talk to her directly. So far, her team was losing. They had encircled one of the opposing tanks and taken it out, but they kept falling prey to ambushes. Katyusha seemed unable to see an attack coming. She was just relying on antiquated pincer movements to win, a wholly ineffective technique against Samara's style.

Samara. She seemed to be shaping up nicely, even if her tactics were unconventional to say the least.

No great surprise, though. She was new. She was a typical freshman, always more obsessed with something than she needed to be, and she had studied hundreds of armored engagements from all sorts of wars. She looked for mistakes and figured out how to avoid them.

On a good day Katyusha would have a more effective strategy, but today was not a good day.

At least Samara was afraid of her. She wouldn't be a threat, except to the enemy.

A thump disturbed her thoughts. A T-34 raised its white flag. Only her tank was left.

The KV approached and fired at point blank range into Katyusha's tank. The training match was over.

* * *

"You are hereby suspended for three weeks for assaulting another student."

Katyusha's jaw dropped. "But what about my summer classes?"

"If you were anything less than the commander you would have been expelled. You are not permitted to attend school activities or associate with students during school hours. And you are most certainly not allowed anywhere near that wedge."

Well, that was a given.

"If you are at any point caught assaulting a student like that in the future, it will lead to expulsion. I don't care if you're one of our top students. You're on thin ice, young lady. Don't blow it."

A pause, then: "You are dismissed."

The implications of this suddenly sank in—she wasn't going to be let anywhere near Nikita. Not if his function had to do with Sensha-do and that was precisely what she was banned from participating in.

What if Nina made a move on Nikita without fear of retribution? Or had she successfully stopped that?

She decided to just stay in her room for three weeks if it meant she could avoid expulsion. There were a few projects she had been meaning to get to lately. In its weird way, the opportunity had presented itself.

As she got back to the dorms, heads turned in her direction.

Did they wear pity or triumph on their faces? Probably triumph, considering they hated her.

And among the heads were Nikita's, Nonna's, and (worst of all) Nina's. No sign of Klara.

Now she was truly alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Nonna was walking now. Her legs had regained enough strength to allow her to stand on her own, though she wasn't yet able to stroll around as she had before and she certainly couldn't carry Katyusha. Klara often accompanied her on short walks just to reinforce the movements through muscle memory. They didn't speak a word about Katyusha.

Nikita had brought forth some new strategies used by St. Basil, and together with Nina and Samara, he was generating battle plans that were designed to survive contact with the enemy. He seemed distant, even though his platonic friendships with those two were flourishing.

Nina had some sort of cushion that she would always put on a hard chair before taking a seat. It pained Nonna to watch her smile as she set it down, knowing that the smile concealed scars deeper than a badly bruised crotch.

It looked like she had given up trying to date Nikita. If Katyusha wanted to make her move, he was open. There was no indication that Nikita was even interested in a love life at the moment, not after watching his options dwindle. It was funny how close Nina and Samara were getting, considering that Samara had been the one who brought the wedge into the room. Nina seemed to have forgiven everyone but herself for that one, slipping into a cycle of self-doubt that Nikita had to stamp out every time they came up with strategies.

Samara was unusually quiet. The church on board ship seemed to be her favorite hangout. Supposedly she went to Confession every couple of days. It was a defense mechanism, Nonna reasoned, against the guilt involved with being part of the most horrific hazing used on a student in ten years. How she had escaped any disciplinary action was beyond her. Perhaps the school administrators were prudent enough to reserve the penalties for Katyusha herself.

What had been the worst one? It was something she had asked teachers about several times but never gotten a straight answer. It was no help asking other students because they hadn't been there.

Well, whatever it was, Katyusha's latest stupid idea had netted her a suspension and some failed classes.

* * *

Three weeks had gone by since Katyusha's suspension. She was showing up in class again, and still tyrannical, but she had considerably less force in her words than before Nonna's accident.

"You will salute me for the rest of the day. That or I bring down hell on your head."

That was addressed to another hapless freshman who had decided to question Katyusha's authority. Katyusha sounded tired—she was wide open to more attacks now that her friends were just avoiding her.

Even in Sensha-do training, no one listened to her unless she had someone else relay her commands. No one could take her seriously if every word dripped with lethargy.

She had a long way to go to get things back to normal.

* * *

Nikita opened up the closet next to the briefing room, in search of a ridiculously expensive pen of his that had rolled under the door. He was greeted by the sight of the wedge, still on its casters, it paint scratched where Nina's feet had scrabbled to get a grip in a desperate bid to alleviate the pain.

He was picking the pen up when he heard Nina's voice behind him.

"Nikita?"

He looked over his shoulder at where Nina stood, clutching her cushion and looking timidly at him.

That thing—that damn wedge—was controlling her! Everything she did was motivated by fear of it!

Nikita slammed the closet door shut. He couldn't let her see the wedge any longer. It would be cruel of him.

Nina looked like she was shivering a little, like standing in front of Nikita brought back memories of a primal sort of fear. Nikita walked up and gave her a hug. He said nothing but held her close—not too firm, not too loose, just enough to let her know that he was there for her.

* * *

Katyusha watched Nikita enter the main office and close the door behind him. She crept towards the door and waited for him to come out.

When he did, he blinked in surprise. It had been weeks since they had last seen each other. The moment she saw Nikita, Katyusha felt the same sense of longing she had felt early on in knowing him.

"Hi."

"Commander Katyusha."

There was that accent again, exactly the one she loved hearing so much, but there was something off about it.

Its lighthearted tone was gone and now it sounded like Nikita was really nervous. She knew he was in love with her, deep down, but there was no way for him to get past what she had done.

For a moment his mouth brightened a little, but it subsided back into the look of confusion and sadness that dominated the rest of his face.

"Where's Nonna? How's she been?"

"She misses the old you," Nikita replied. "You know, the one that didn't torture other students over the small stuff."

That stung a little.

"She's not ready to welcome you back with open arms. You were a part of her as much as she was a part of you. She doesn't trust you anymore."

"What about you?" Katyusha's voice was shaky now.

"I don't know what to think right now. I'm torn between the logical choice to rid myself of you permanently and the little angel on my shoulder telling me to give you a chance."

Logical choice? Oh, no. Not him too. The ambiguity of his position was what had gotten her out of bed in the morning, the hope that someday she would end up in his arms. Now that was about to slip away from her. She could see the anvil lined up to crush her heart.

Nikita went on. "Of those two choices, I would prefer to give you a shot. You're a hard fighter; that much has always been apparent. I'm banking on you not being so far gone that you can't have a life."

So there was a glimmer of hope. "I'll be really good, I promise." That sounded childish, but it was the first thing she blurted out.

Nikita smiled. "Now prove it."

* * *

Nina had stopped using the cushion every time she sat down on a hard surface. It stayed with her at all times, though, should it be needed. Her bicycle was still off-limits, though, at least for now. Her crotch no longer hurt, but she approached anything that required her to straddle it with a great deal of trepidation.

That reminded her—Samara was remarkably easy to talk to. Yes, Samara had pushed the wedge into the room so Nina could be tortured on it. Yes, she had stood there nibbling at her fingernails while Nadia and Zoya did Katyusha's bidding. But they had so much in common! Besides, Samara lived in just as much fear as Nina did.

Apparently Katyusha had assigned Samara, a five-foot-four incoming freshman with no friends, to serve on her newly-created "disciplinary committee." All that meant was a job punishing hapless students for whatever Katyusha didn't like, about as close to a purge as she could get. The penalties for failing to comply had supposedly ranged from "Gulag" to "overboard." It didn't take much imagination to figure out what the latter meant.

For a freshman, it didn't take much to manipulate the mind into doing anything. Nina understood. She would have done anything to avoid Katyusha's ire back then, not that it really worked whenever she opened her mouth.

There was a knock at Nina's door. She rose and opened it. To her surprise, Nonna, Klara, and Samara were standing there. In front of them stood Katyusha, whose eyes were wide and whose hands held a teddy bear.

Nonna's hand was firmly grasping Katyusha's collar, and the tiny commander's feet barely touched the floor as the whole entourage marched into a puzzled Nina's room. When they reached the center of the room, Nonna spun Katyusha around to face Nina and tapped her between the shoulder blades. It was only a light knock, but it may as well have been a cattle prod. Katyusha sank to her knees, trying to choke something out but with words failing her. The teddy bear fell from her hands.

At length Nonna spoke. "Nina, she's all yours. Do as you please. If you want to carry out a purge, feel free to do so. If you want to leave her be, that's your prerogative. Prepare yourself, Katyusha. We'll see ourselves out."

Klara exited first, followed by Nikita, then Samara and Nonna. The door clicked shut.

For a while neither Nina nor Katyusha moved. One was standing there open-mouthed, the other watching her hands shake violently, her face twisted into a cry that wouldn't come out.

Nina clasped her hands behind her back and walked over to a window. Her normal self had absolutely no force of character, but she had once been told that she had a gift for acting. So she decided to play the role of the pompous creditor. After a pause, she settled on what she wanted to say. "I did not anticipate this, but I can't say I don't appreciate it."

There was no answer. Katyusha's trembling hands seized the teddy bear back off the floor.

"I like the nice little 'march to the scaffold' approach Nonna opted to use. Designed to put the fear of God and myself into you." She paced around the room. "Like she said, it is my choice, by her command, to do whatever I see fit with you. How about we start with a list of the various things you did to me over the course of a month?"

She stopped and looked Katyusha in the eye. "I'm waiting."

This pomp and circumstance was getting to be tiresome. "Really, come on. Start listing them off!"

"I...I...uh..." Katyusha was stuttering.

"You threatened my life over Nikita. You planted a black wreath in my room. Take it from there."

"I spilled hot coffee on you on purpose." That was one Nina had almost forgotten about. Katyusha's voice, though small, was beginning to form words. "I threatened your friends. I locked you in a closet with rats. I—"

Nina interrupted her. "Knowing they could inflict serious harm by disease. Continue."

"I, um, forced you to carry heavy—"

"Back-breaking!"

"—back-breaking loads of tank shells without a cart. I..." Her voice trailed off.

"You what?"

Katyusha looked like she was about to cry, terrified of admitting her own wrongdoing. Nina persisted: "What did you do, Commander Katyusha?"

"I...I...I..." Katyusha was sniffling.

Nina's voice suddenly became resonant. "You made me clean the briefing room. When I missed a spot, as you so gleefully informed me, you had me put on the Wedge for five straight minutes. You left me with a bruised crotch and a broken sense of dignity. You left me terrified of hard chairs, bikes, and doorstops. And let's mention, while we're at it, how you threatened Samara with death if she refused to do things like that to people like me. You betrayed Nonna's trust in your ability to control yourself. You betrayed Nikita. He was ready to date you until you pulled this. You betrayed Klara, who felt responsible for you while Nonna was hospitalized. And lastly, you betrayed yourself. You shot yourself in the foot with everything you did. But back to the situation at hand. I am the one facing you now. You have no one else to back you up. Of everyone I named, they feel I suffered the most direct pain, so they seem to have left it to me to deal with you."

Katyusha began to blubber uncontrollably. "Please! Spare me! I didn't think—"

"Well, of course you didn't."

Nina grabbed a stepping stool and placed it in front of Katyusha. This charade was getting more fun by the minute.

"Since you're already kneeling, just bend forward. Bite the deck. I said, bite the deck!"

Katyusha was clutching the teddy bear close to her chest. "Feel free to hold onto that."

Nina grabbed Katyusha by the hair and dragged her face down to the stepping stool, tapped her chin to make her mouth open reflexively, and placed her open mouth on the edge of the stool.

"Anything you want to say?" Nina's eyes were triumphant. Her acting really was top-notch.

Katyusha had no answer, just a hiccup here and there as indignant tears stung her eyes.

Nina walked around behind Katyusha. "Like Nonna said, prepare yourself."

She lightly tapped her foot on Katyusha's back before lifting it up again. Katyusha whimpered.

"Huh? What was that?" She rested her foot on the back of Katyusha's head. "What did you say?" She received only another whimper in reply. "I guess that's it, then." She lifted her foot up, drawing in a deep breath as she did so.

"I'M SORRY!" Katyusha screamed in desperation, lifting her head up a little. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! For everything! Don't kill me! Please! Please..."

Nina smiled. At last Katyusha had said the words that had seldom passed her lips. She lowered her foot to the floor, leaned down towards the sobbing commander, and whispered in her ear:

"As long as you understand, all's forgiven."


	7. Chapter 7

"Then she threatened to curb stomp Katyusha on a stepping stool unless she apologized!"

Nikita's St. Basil buddies laughed. "Damn, Nik! This girl's badass!"

Nina blushed a little. "It was nothing, really. Just a wild stab at a psychological trick. Seems to have worked, though. Just one thing I'm not clear on. How did you even get her to my place?"

"Oh, boy." Nikita's fingers brushed at the stubble beginning to show up on his face. "Let me see...ah. Nonna went to go see Katyusha under the guise of it being an olive branch. Once there, she took her to Klara's dorm, where Samara was waiting. They swung by to pick me up. By the time they got to my office, they had told her exactly what they were doing."

"Let me guess, to keep your name clear." Nina had to admit, Nonna had really thought this out carefully.

"Precisely," Klara said, joining the conversation. "We all secretly shipped you with her from the beginning."

"Well, I'm flattered," replied Nikita with a slight bow. "All I was doing was keeping her sane in transit."

His phone buzzed in his pocket. "I have to take this." He took his drink and left the room.

As he left, he could be heard saying into the phone:

"Commander Katyusha?"

* * *

"How could you leave me like that? How could you? I could've been killed!" Katyusha stamped her foot angrily.

Nikita bowed his head for a moment before answering. "I wasn't the one ultimately in charge of the situation. Nonna was, not Nina. Anyway, Nina had no intention of killing you."

"But still! You left me in there alone! I've never been so scared in my life!"

"Like I said, Nonna planned it. Nina had nothing to do with anything except the execution."

"Don't word it like that."

"Probably the most terrifying ad-lib I've ever heard on her part—"

"You heard all that?!"

"Yes, the door isn't soundproof." Nikita chuckled.

Katyusha reddened.

"Nobody else heard it. I was on standby to make sure everything went smoothly."

"You call that smoothly?"

"Anyway, Nonna sends her love."

"Some love that was!"

"Tough love, to be specific."

"I don't take kindly to nearly getting curb stomped just in search of an apology."

"Remember what I said two months ago? 'Don't fuck with a real Russian?' Nina might not be Russian, but she's tougher than she gives herself credit for."

"What about me?"

"If what I've heard is true, you've already shown yourself to be the same way. There is one thing I want to get straight. Why didn't you do anything to stop Nina? She didn't tie your hands or anything."

Katyusha took a deep breath. "Because of Nonna."

"Nonna?"

"I was afraid of what she might do to me if I tried to resist."

"More so than the person about to demolish your head?"

"As weird as it sounds, yes." There was a slightly embarrassed smile tugging at Katyusha's lips.

"What could she possibly do to you worse than death?"

"Who? Nonna?"

"Uh-huh."

"Oh, I don't know—actually, I'm not sure I want to know."

"So it's your fear of the unknown more than anything else."

"You could say that."

* * *

Nonna looked at Nikita with a how-could-you-miss-this expression. "Do something to apologize to her. Don't just tell her sorry or anything like that. For as much as she claims to have a big heart, she doesn't believe you're sorry until you show her. It's just how she's wired."

"So what do I do then?'

"Buy her something nice? Dinner? Flowers? A straight-up KV-2 model? Whatever suits your fancy."

"Dinner…there's a thought." Nikita pulled out his phone and began to type in the phone number of a restaurant he had found while walking around the Pravda ship.

* * *

"What is it with Italian food and this ship?" Katyusha whined. "You and Klara, you always pick Italian of some kind. What's up with that?"

"I know I'm repeating stuff Klara's already said," Nikita replied with a grin, "but it's reliable enough. You know for a fact that you will leave with a food coma."

As they ate their dinner, they began to really talk. Nikita told Katyusha about how he had risen through the ranks at St. Basil's tankery team to become one of the most feared boys in the sport, especially being the smallest guy at his school. He had so many funny little stories to tell that Katyusha nearly forgot about how just days earlier, she had had her teeth on a stepping stool, clutching a teddy bear, crying with the notion that she was about to die while Nikita stood watch over the door. Now she was seeing the side of him she had been angling to see for a long time—the side that made her feel like a normal human being going out on a date with another normal human being.

Well, as normal as midgets could be. But what was that line from some musical or other? "Little people know/When little people fight/We may look easy pickin's/But we've got some bite"?

They parted amicably at the end of the night and went home eager to see each other again. For as rocky of a start as it had been, they were really drawn to each other. Katyusha didn't care that she could only gain an extra couple feet or so from riding on Nikita's shoulders. It would still put her above all the other girls regardless of the fact that he was really small.

For his part, Nikita kept everything under control. He was shaving meticulously every morning and making sure his hair was right. It was trivial stuff, that was for sure, but there was another purpose in his actions.

To see her again.

* * *

"A French place? You really have a thing for ethnic food, don't you?"

"Well, consider this. I view sushi as ethnic food; you probably view it as normal. It's just how we were brought up. My tastes aren't the same as yours."

Nikita raised his water glass, and Katyusha did likewise. "To something undetermined for the sake of a useless toast."

"Nazdrovia."

They giggled a little at the silliness of it all—substituting water for wine, acting like adults when they knew that they were just teenagers. It was all for the entertainment…

"Nikita?"

"Yes, darling?" Did he say that out loud? "I mean, Commander Katyusha."

"What you said about different tastes…who says we can't reach a more informed opinion on that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do I really need to explain it? I taste what you taste, and vice versa?"

_How cliché,_ Nikita thought to himself. _And a little bit gross. But I can live with that._

"Oh, and 'darling' will be fine."

_How also cliché,_ the voice in Nikita's head dryly added.

The restaurant was almost empty now, save for the two teachers periodically glancing at them from a far corner of the restaurant.

Katyusha looked deep into his eyes. He looked back into hers, then they glanced over at the two teachers. Perceiving that those two were focused on other things, the two of them leaned in and kissed. When they let go, Katyusha sat back with a giggle.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," she said. "Thanks for humoring me."

"So have I," Nikita murmured. "I guess great minds think alike?"

Katyusha wiped her mouth on her napkin. Then she cocked her head at Nikita and said with a grin:

"Care to try that again?"

Nikita wasted no time in obliging. And with that, for a fleeting moment, nothing else mattered.

When they were done, Katyusha smiled at Nikita. "You know, there's something else I've been meaning to say."

"What is it?"

"You know, Nikita," Katyusha said, her voice picking up speed with excitement, "put quite simply, I love you."

"You know, Katyusha," replied Nikita, "I think the feeling's mutual."

For a long time afterwards, they just sat there, gazing at each other, their cards on the table, the air cleared, relieved at last that there was nothing driving them apart anymore.

* * *

Nonna inserted the key into the lock and entered Katyusha's room. It was a mess in there. There were things strewn about. Tripping hazards, every one of them.

One thing in particular stood out to Nonna—the Legos on the floor. There were a few scattered around, but most of them were in a highly detailed mock-up of a KV-2.

Heh. A KV. Katyusha's favorite tank.

No sign of the commander herself, though.

Something seemed off—Katyusha had never been a Lego nut. Sure, there had been a few, but they were otherwise gone.

As Nonna sat down on the rumpled bed and slipped off her shoes, she noticed something. There was a pair of glasses on Katyusha's nightstand.

Coke-bottle glasses. That had to mean...did she really want to know?

The bathroom door was closed. A high-pitched voice was coming through the door. Nonna's fears were confirmed by the addition of another voice, obviously male. She tiptoed towards the door.

Katyusha was whimpering. The shower was running. Nikita was saying, "Shh, Commander. Nothing to be afraid of," in the most fatherly voice Nonna had ever heard.

A yelp, followed by some laughter, rang through the door. Nonna realized what was going on and backed away from the door.

As she did so, her foot came down on a stray Lego brick. She clamped a hand over her mouth and sank to the floor, silently screaming for a variety of reasons. Tears stung her eyes. This was painful on so many levels, almost as bad as her fall so long ago.

Nope. She wasn't going to stick around.

She reached for her shoes and hurried out of the room, the sole of her foot still smarting. Once outside, she limped as fast as she could down the hall towards Klara's dorm. Hopefully there were less haunting things to be found there.

* * *

**Author's Note: This was one of the first fanfics I ever wrote. The original version was actually written about six months ago and has since undergone some revisions.**

**I want to thank my brother FifiTheBulldog for his help in fleshing out the idea and providing me with feedback while I was writing this story.**

**Thank you all for reading and have a nice day.**


End file.
